Obviously
by Phindle
Summary: It’s not a relationship. So how has Tricky Nicky managed to move in with her and make himself an essential part of her life? He sure is sneaky. 13 months in Sara’s emotionally stunted head. NS, snickers


Rating: T for a little mild naughtiness and the odd bad word.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or situations from 'CSI:Crime Scene Investigation'. This story was written and published purely for enjoyment and the love of the characters. No profit is being made.

Summary: It's not a relationship. So how has Tricky Nicky managed to move in with her and make himself an essential part of her life? He sure is sneaky. 13 months in Sara's emotionally stunted head.

Author's notes: This was a bit of an experiment with tense and tone so please let me know what you think. I know that Sara's very clever and, if I've written this badly, that she might come off a little stupid. It's supposed to be tongue-in-cheek and I was trying to give the feeling that she's just an emotionally stunted commitment-phobic who was deliberately deluding herself. But not stupid. Lol.

**Obviously **

Sometimes Sara really hates Nick. It's the sheer unavoidableness of the man that really gets to her. It's the fact that he knows her so well that while he has studiously avoided ever trying to classify their relationship he has gradually managed to make himself a fixture in her life. And he's done it so subtly she didn't even have a chance to register what was happening until he had become utterly immovable.

He always used to leave in the early hours of the evening, an hour or so before she woke up, going home to shower and eat breakfast, keeping their domestic activities utterly separate. It had given their fling (she refused to ever call it a relationship, even within the safe confines of her own mind) a pleasant, dreamlike quality. She sometimes had to take a few moments to smell the unique, masculine Nick-smell on his pillow (although obviously, she never thought of it as _his_ pillow, it was her pillow, it was just the one he happened to use) to convince herself he had even been there at all. The first time that he stayed until her alarm went off they had both lain on their sides for a few minutes, facing each other, silent and blinking, the reality of waking up together slightly jarring. Sara had frozen, not knowing what to do with this strange new intimacy. Nick, in his infuriating way had simply grinned, giving an awkward little half shrug.

"Must have forgotten to set my alarm. Sorry."

Sara had just given him an uneasy smile in return, telling him that he could use the bathroom first and then waiting for him to leave the room before she moved from under the covers. Unwilling to let him see her naked in this new context. She threw on her thickest, oldest bathrobe and escaped to the neutrality of the kitchen as soon as she heard the bathroom door close.

Pacing silently in her bare feet as she boiled the water to make the coffee she so desperately needed. She thought things through, trying to calm her anxiety. While it was certainly true they had both been exhausted and it was perfectly plausible that Nick could have fallen asleep before he had a chance to set his alarm, Sara didn't quite believe it. Something about that grin had told her that Nick had been well aware his alarm was unset. A little niggling voice in the back of her mind wondered if perhaps he hadn't in fact timed his forgetfulness to coincide with a night when she herself was too tired to remind him to set his alarm or for there to be any chance she would wake up before him and surreptitiously kick him out. But she had decided she was being paranoid. When he came out of the shower and accepted the coffee she handed him without so much as brushing his fingers against hers, she began to calm down. It had been an honest mistake. He did nothing to try and increase the intimacy of the situation. No clumsy attempts to give her a good morning kiss, not even on the forehead, no fumbling tries for a hug. He just took the mug from her, allowed her to remove herself to the bathroom as quickly as possible and then left while she showered. No sappy love note left behind. Just the cup rinsed and placed neatly in the dishwasher and complete normalcy when she arrived at work that evening. He was one sneaky bastard.

It happened once more that month and while her suspicions were aroused, Nick had gone to such pains to maintain their physical remoteness until he left that once again she let it pass unreprimanded.

It happened four times the next month but not once the month after that. In retrospect Sara was relatively sure that Nick had detected her slowly rising level of panic and had been well aware that one more unplanned sleepover and she was fully prepared to call quits on their fling (not relationship). No matter how he made her feel when they were in bed together or the fact that at work she considered him one of her closest friends. No matter how much she didn't want to call it quits, which in hindsight probably should have been the biggest sign that it was time to do so. Still, Sara was new to emotional attachments so she hadn't realised. Which was also something she was pretty sure Nick had been counting on.

By the end of the fourth month it had ended up that Nick stayed more often than he left. She'd made that disconcerting realisation one evening as she pulled down Nick's cup and realised that she did indeed now think of it as _Nick's_ cup. Not at all sure how he'd managed to sneak that one past her, or when he'd started having unofficial ownership of her things. When she realised that she no longer told him he could use the shower first, that they had an actual evening _routine_, she'd dropped the cup in shock, smashing it to bits. But the distance was still there and really, as she thought about it on the drive to work, it had been selfish of her to expect him to lose an hour's sleep every time he came over. It was only sensible for him to stay. Sleep was, after all, a precious commodity for a CSI. Nick had seemed to sense the gradual acceptance because he stopped claiming he'd forgotten to set his alarm and staying over stopped being something that happened most of the time and became something that happened every time. Which was OK because it was only logical, as Sara kept reminding herself.

The same way that it was only logical that Nick brought a cup over from his house to replace the one Sara had broken. After all, they had both begun to think of it as _his_ mug so why shouldn't he replace it with one of his own? And when Sara opened her bathroom cabinet one evening to find that her tampons and contraceptive pills had been neatly rearranged to make room for a toothbrush and a razor, that was perfectly logical too. Nick couldn't be expected to keep carrying these things to and from work everyday just in case he would be coming back to her apartment after shift. Ditto for the shower gel that appeared two days later and the shampoo, aftershave and towels that appeared the week after that.

With Nick staying over so often now it was obviously silly for Sara to keep up her avoidance routine in the mornings. She shouldn't have to change her life just because it was easier for him to sleep at her place. So what if she took a little longer to drink her coffee these days, meaning that now Nick would emerge from the bathroom and join her in the kitchen? It was her kitchen and she should be able to spend as long as she liked drinking her coffee and reading the newspaper. Nick wanted the sports section while she wanted commentary and they both wanted headlines. So it made perfect sense for them to split the newspaper up between them. Obviously, it was her kitchen and Nick was not a permanent fixture so there was no need for him to familiarise himself with it, that would have been far too domestic, which was obviously why she always got breakfast for them both. And there wasn't time for them both to read the headlines so one day Nick had offered to read them out to her while she puttered around the kitchen. Purely practical. Clearly the warm tingle she felt when he began reading each evening was just because he was a very sexy man with a very sexy voice. It had nothing to do with Nick himself, per se.

Seven months in Nick had suddenly become a very snuggly sleeper. The first time it happened he'd rolled over in his sleep and pinned her under one muscular arm, gradually shifting until his arm was curled right around her and her back was hugged to his chest. Sara had spent the whole day frozen stiff, unable to sleep. Sara was not a snuggler but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't shift him off her. Stupid, heavy man. When he woke up the next morning Nick had removed his arm, giving her a quick grope on the way (which was OK, sexual contact was fine, better than fine, it was just this hugging business that was so troublesome). Seeming to understand that he had broken one of their many unwritten rules Nick had ducked his head and apologised profusely as soon as she rolled over to glare at him. But, he explained, winter was setting in. Obviously he must have gotten cold while he slept and unconsciously moved closer to her because of her body heat. Which did make a kind of sense, she supposed, somehow forgetting until much later that this was Las Vegas and there really was no such thing as a cold day. She glared at him a while longer and then nodded, accepting his explanation. And if he ducked his head down a little quickly and she thought she'd seen a slightly mischievous glimmer in his eye before he did so, then that was just her suspicious nature. Although it did take a few days to shake the nagging feeling that perhaps he hadn't been quite as asleep as he'd claimed.

After eight months Sara decided to spend one Saturday morning cleaning out two drawers and half a closet for Nick's clothes. Because, really, he had to keep that many clothes at her apartment. People at work would start getting suspicious if he always turned up wearing the same things and he couldn't be expected to just keep piling them up on an armchair in her lounge. Of course, the way that she held one of his sweaters to her face and breathed in his scent didn't mean that she was missing him while he was out of town on a case. That would be silly. Why would she miss someone, who was just a friend she happened to sleep with, when he'd only been gone three days? It was just that he had a very pleasant smell and she was used to having him around. And if the smile he gave her when he arrived at her apartment the next day and she showed him the clothes all neatly folded and hung seemed just a little softer or his kisses seemed just a little deeper that was probably just because he was tired. After all, he'd come straight to her place after the long drive back from his out of town case, not even stopping off at his own house first. Because he'd missed the sex, he explained. Not because he'd missed her. Which was just how it should be, even if his back was turned to her when he said it and his voice had sounded a little like he was trying to hold back laughter.

It was in the ninth month that Nick had stayed over even though they hadn't had sex first. The sex was what he'd come over for, obviously, but as they lay together on Sara's bed he'd confessed that he really was exhausted from working a double the day before and Sara admitted that she was pretty beat too. If, she reasoned, he was too tired to have sex then there was no way he could be awake enough to drive. So the only solution was for him to sleep at her place. When she'd hesitantly suggested it Nick had taken a moment to think and then solemnly agreed to the logicallness of her plan. The way he had hugged her to him and gently brushed kisses all over her face as she fell asleep was obviously just gratitude, she thought to herself, because now he didn't have to drive home. No other possible explanation.

Ten months in and Nick was spending almost every night at Sara's place. He had told her that it was just too awkward trying to remember what he had left at her home and what he had left at his. So now they would both drive straight from the lab to her apartment each day at seven in the morning. Where they would have dinner together before watching a movie or settling down at opposite ends of Sara's couch, reading forensic journals and summarising the most interesting articles for each other. Which was why it made perfect sense when Nick first suggested that they go grocery shopping together. After all, he ate half of her food so why shouldn't he help shop for it?

Halfway through the eleventh month Nick's mother had called him at Sara's apartment. That had freaked her out terribly because it wasn't like Nick lived there or anything. Seeing the panic stricken look in her eyes as she handed him the phone Nick had grabbed onto her wrist, pulling her back to him when she tried to run away, gently pushing on her back until she was sprawled comfortably on top of him on the couch. He stroked her back and dropped silent kisses along her hairline while he chatted comfortably on the phone. Eventually she calmed down, resting her head on his chest while he stroked her hair and she listened to the rumble of his drawl through his chest wall, feeling the vibrations through her cheek. She waited until he hung up, still staying where she was as he explained that his mom had called him on his cell at work after she hadn't been able to reach him at his house. Knowing that he'd be at her place later, he'd given his mom Sara's home number. He couldn't expect her to keep calling his cell all the way from Texas, the costs would have been astronomical.

It nearly all ended in the twelfth month. Nick had brought her flowers on the day that, if they had been in a relationship, which they weren't, would have been their anniversary. This time it was a plate that Sara dropped in shock. But Nick had just knelt down and started clearing up the broken china, Sara mechanically bending to help him a few seconds later. And he explained perfectly rationally that the flowers weren't for her. Far from it, they were for him. The victim of a B&E he had helped solved a few days ago had brought them in for him as a thankyou. And he'd just thought that they would look nice in her apartment, perhaps in the lounge, next to the TV. But they weren't for her. Which was fine, although Sara didn't remember anyone coming into reception and asking for Nick and flowers seemed like a slightly odd gift to give to a man. But gerbera daisies were her favourites and they certainly would look good in the lounge. Although she couldn't for the life of her work out why Nick hadn't once looked her in the eye when he explained about the flowers, or for that matter why her heart did an odd little skippy thing whenever she glimpsed them out of the corner of her eye. Nor could she shake the uneasiness she felt because she had known it was exactly one year since their first night together. Obviously Nick had no idea, he couldn't have done, and it wasn't like she'd been keeping track or anything. She was a CSI, it was her job to be observant and remember things, no matter how utterly unimportant they were.

Things were a little strange after the incident with the flowers. They felt almost strained, although Sara had no idea why. And if once or twice she lay awake at night wondering if Nick had grown tired of her, it was just because they were friends first and foremost. She didn't want things to be awkward between them. Plus, the sex was still great, she'd miss it if he left. It was definitely the sex she'd miss, not him. Maybe a little of the companionship. A bit.

Two days later Sara woke up in the middle of the night with a panic attack. She was _living_ with Nick. Somewhere along the way he'd completely wormed his way into her life and he's done it so subtly that she hadn't even realised. Well, maybe there had been some signs she should have spotted, but surely nothing major, not when this was exactly what she didn't want.

Somehow it had become normal for Nick's mom to call every Thursday morning and to talk to Sara for five minutes before being handed over to her son. Sara hadn't even noticed when Saturday became their day for doing groceries and laundry or when the pictures of Nick's family had appeared on the dresser on 'his' side of the bed. It had become an expected routine for Nick to kiss her goodnight and good morning and to hold her while they both fell asleep. It was all so comfortable now that one of them could quite happily wander into the bathroom to brush their teeth while the other was in the shower. Warrick didn't even give her knowing smirks anymore when she and Nick turned up at work two minutes apart every single day and he had stopped inviting himself over to Nick's place to watch the game because Nick was never there. Warrick hadn't even glanced up the other day when Nick accidentally called her 'sweetheart' in the middle of the break room. He'd been asking her to pass him a mug and the causal domesticity of the question had just made the endearment follow naturally. It had been three weeks now since Nick had been to his house and he'd only gone there to pick up his mail.

Oh God. She was living with Nick.

Sara's panicky breathing had woken Nick who shot upright, took one look at her anguished face and visibly slumped. "Ah," was all he said.

Sara gaped at him for a few more seconds, trying to get her breathing under control, until she managed to gasp out, "Nick… we're living together."

"Yes, sweetheart." Even though he looked utterly dejected, a small smirk still cause the corners of his mouth to twitch slightly.

Sara's mouth opened and closed helplessly until she spluttered, "But we can't be living together!" Her normally deep voice had developed an alarming and very un-Sara-like squeak. "This… this _thing_ between us… it's just a… a… _thing_!" Her voice had dropped to a hiss as if she was scared someone might hear and she was gesturing frantically between their bodies, "It's not like it's a… a…"

"Relationship, sweetheart?" There was that twitch of the mouth again.

"Yes! It's not like this is a relationship. We can't be living together!"

"I love you, Sara."

And that was when Sara kicked him out.

How dare he? She fumed as she paced her kitchen after Nick had driven away. They weren't even in a relationship and there he was going around telling her he loved her in a perfectly calm, reasonable voice as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. When anyone could see it wasn't!

Sometimes she hated Nick. He was one sneaky bastard to insinuate himself into her life like that. It wasn't like she wanted him or needed him or anything like that. For one thing he was so big, physically speaking. He always made her apartment feel so crowded. Well, it had seemed more cosy than crowded at the time but she was sure that now he was gone and she could get his stuff out of there it would feel much more spacious again. Of course it felt kind of lonely right now… but it had never been lonely before so that was just more evidence of how Nick had conned his way into her life. She certainly wouldn't miss how demanding he was. With other men she'd been able to think about other things while they were kissing her or making love to her (not that she and Nick had ever made love, they'd had sex because it _wasn't_ a relationship). But with Nick it wasn't possible to think about anything except what he was doing to her, where he was touching her. There was no way to plan her shopping list or try to work out when her DNA samples would finish being processed because the second his lips touched hers everything would just go white-hot and blurry and trying to follow a logical train of though was impossible. It was just selfish of him. It was nice to have the bed to herself again too, without some great big, snuggly, needy Texan pawing at her and not even giving her space to sleep. Although she'd have to turn the AC down because it sure was cold without him. And she kind of had trouble sleeping. But that was just because she was still angry. Obviously.

Sara definitely didn't miss him in the morning, no sir. Even if she did wake up hugging his pillow (which wasn't even _his_, dammit, it was _hers_) and with tears on her cheeks. So what if she drank her coffee from his mug? It wasn't because she missed him. It was because she was so unaffected by this whole thing that she could use any mug she wanted. Totally unphased. And everyone knows that crying doesn't count if you do it in the shower because you can't even see the tears.

Work was fine. Great. Even if Warrick did keep giving her and Nick sorrowful looks and sighing a lot. And who knew why Nick looked like he'd barely slept. But he certainly didn't love her because that would be ridiculous. God, she missed him.

It was the third day after she'd thrown him out that Sara found herself in the locker room at the same time as Nick. It must have been the lack of sleep or her overactive hormones or something because there was no other reason why one minute she should be watching him closing his locker and looking like a deer in the headlights and the next minute she should have him pinned against the locker, her mouth fused onto his, grabbing desperately onto his hair, his arms, his face, just trying desperately to get closer to him. And oh God, she'd missed his mouth and the next second his hands were everywhere and, oh _God_, she'd missed them too. One hand had burrowed deep into her hair, holding her mouth against his so she couldn't pull away even if she'd been the slightest bit inclined to do so. While the other hand moved frantically over her as he seemed to be unable to decide whether the need to slide it up under her top and feel her skin was more urgent than the need to slide it down and grab her butt to bring her hips tighter against his. The next thing she knew Nick was turning them and slamming her back against the lockers, which quite frankly, _hurt_. But that didn't matter because all that mattered was getting as close to Nick as was humanly possible.

Finally they had to tear apart and they were both panting heavily, Nick's head buried in Sara's neck and her head flopped bonelessly against his shoulder, both of them still clinging to each other.

On consideration, Sara was still going to stick with that whole sleep deprivation theory. It was the only reason, other than the drugging effect of Nick's kisses, why when she intended to say "I'm sorry, I don't love you", somehow when the words left her throat the 'don't' got stuck, leaving her desperately gasping "I'm sorry, I love you" into Nick's ear. And the strangest thing was that while Nick was laughing and kissing her everywhere he could reach and growling incoherent things into her ear and her mouth about loving her and how beautiful she was and exactly what he was going to do to her when he got her home, she realised that what she'd said was true. Which left her slightly dazed as to how she'd managed to let that get past her, although she partly blamed the dazedness on Nick because his kisses definitely had that sort of uncontrollable eye-glazing, knee-weakening effect on her. But, obviously, it wasn't her fault she hadn't realised she was in love with Nick, he'd snuck it up on her. And she'd been living with him for the last few months, which could distract just about anyone from just about anything.

He certainly was one sneaky bastard. But she loved him.

FIN

Well… I liked it. Let me know what you thought. Did I pull it off or was it just stupid/weird? Thanks for reading.


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